


Seduction Techniques For The Common Genius

by Handle_one



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Frottage, M/M, Mention of drugging someone, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Has a Plan, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Handle_one/pseuds/Handle_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes wants sex. Sex with John Watson and he is tired of waiting.</p><p>JUST UPDATED THE RATING FOR THIS FIC, IF E RATINGS AREN'T REALLY YOUR THING NOTHING E RATED HAPPENS UNTIL CHAPTER 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Idea Of A Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my computer since Christmas and I have decided to post it as a WIP to get my ass into gear and finish it. 
> 
> Tags will be updated as needed.

**Sherlock Holmes wants sex. Sex with John Watson and he is tired of waiting.**

 

I am Sherlock Holmes, observing others is the core of my detective work. I know John is interested. He has masturbated to thoughts of me on several occasions, the guilty looks after showers and morning risings being obvious signs.

 

I have tried giving signals of my interest. Blatant signals. But, John always writes them off as eccentricities, something “Sherlockian”. No matter how eccentric one may be there is a limit to how many days someone can wander around in a sheet eating bananas.

 

The women have been easy enough to scare off. The lure of a case, a well-timed insult, or occasionally joining John on a date are generally sufficient. But, there is always the concern that someday one of them will be insistent enough to stick it out. That some woman may last long enough for John to decide to move out is unacceptable.

 

The largest obstacle is John H. “Three Continents, Not Gay” Watson. With the “Three Continents” moniker, the possibility of him having some form of sexual experience with another man cannot be completely ruled out however much John might proclaim his Not Gayness. He is certainly not homophobic and is readily accepting of long term same sex relationships. The barrier is getting John to overcome his “I’m Not Gay” issues. So there needs to be some psychology involved to help him face his feeble objections.

 

The possibilities for getting John in bed (or desk or couch or sitting room door, yes, definitely sitting room door) are numerous. The possibilities for getting John in bed, or elsewhere, and still be friends, or preferably more (please god more), with him afterward are significantly shorter.

 

The simplest option is to get him intoxicated. Extremely intoxicated. John is significantly more tactile after a long evening down at the pub. It would be easy enough to get John from cuddly to amazing sex in a short amount of time. The issue then would be his claim that it’s one of those things that happens when you’re drunk and doesn’t actually count or mean anything. Unacceptable.

 

It is tremendously simple to drug John. Administering something to help him forget the next 24 hours with the side effect of being highly suggestive along with some very forward offers would be successful. But, it limits the options for activities, can’t leave marks or unexplained pains, and if John doesn’t remember it there is no advantage.

 

Using the adrenaline fueled return home after a case will certainly work. There have been many times we are on the verge of something happening just for John to pull away at the last minute. Being quicker or more forceful on my part would work but, that most likely leads back to the same issue as alcohol. It was only the heat of the moment, just an adrenaline fueled crazy occurrence that doesn’t actually matter. Plus the fallout of this scenario may lead to John no longer assisting on cases. More than simply unacceptable.

 

Some claim of necessity for a case is rather a long shot but, after some persistence, I might win him over. However, the options would be limited and the awareness that after the imaginary case is solved there would be no more need for such activity. Return to the ‘It doesn’t really count’ argument.

 

Perhaps I could join him on one of his pub night outings and casually flirt with other customers. It could provide the idea that I am open to the possibility of a relationship plus answer the question once and for all as to whether I am homosexual. No, it would create far too much suspicion as to motives and he would likely attribute it to the research of social behavior. Although it would be an interesting study of viable techniques and reactions which would be beneficial in future cases. Best not to involve John is this line of inquiry.

 

Another alternative is to create jealousy. A rival so to speak. John is always protective of me and I could create a situation which would tap into his protective nature. However, John Watson is a selfless man, a man who is nurturing and caring as well as protective. The likelihood of him suppressing his jealousy so that I can be happy is too great a risk. Also, if he were to ever find out about the deception there would be anger that will affect our current relationship as well as destroying the possibility of a romantic relationship.

 

There is the option to follow one of those ridiculous overly romantic movies that John takes his dates to. Flowers, candy, small gifts but, John is not a materialistic man and a sudden barrage of gifts is more likely to arouse suspicion instead of nurturing a romantic interest. Although the idea of manufacturing events to cause him to think of me often in a day is a good step. But, I have found texting him frequently tends to create a negative reaction, possibility but needs more thought.

 

While the standard advice is to simply talk to him, there is too large a possibility of rejection. Being upfront and obvious could scare John away at this point. He needs to be eased into the idea of a romantic relationship with another man. Namely me.

 

It was surprising that the success was due to a combination of all possible options.


	2. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and alcohol play into Sherlock's grand plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is short, but they all are for a while.

John returned from a night out with Lestrade somewhat intoxicated. Sober enough to walk without running into things but more that ‘tipsy’. As I stated earlier John can be rather tactile while intoxicated and this evening was no different. 

I had been reading a new article, ‘The Obliquity of The Ecliptic’, when John stumbles in. Suddenly landing on the sofa next to me.

“Hi!”

“Enjoyable night out John?”

John giggles, yes giggles! He turns and places his head on my shoulder, quickly sliding down onto my lap. Fortunately for me, my periodical was blocking his fall onto my rapidly growing penis. I push him upright again, with much difficulty.

“John, I believe it is time for bed.”

He huffs his agreement, expending great effort before he is able to stand. John leans forward, kissing me on the top of my head while running his nose through my hair.

“Mmmm, your hair is as soft as I always imagined it would be,” and then sighs as he makes his way upstairs.

I sense my cheeks growing red and rush to my bedroom to take care of my developing issue.

The anomaly in this situation came the next morning. I had expected John’s apology and explanation of ‘it doesn’t count if I’m drunk’. Instead, John came downstairs grinning despite what should have been a rather sizeable headache. His smile grew when he saw me despite my expectation of embarrassment. 

“Sherlock, about last night.”

The beginning of the conversation I was anticipating. Before I can reply John walks in front of me, looking in my eyes as his smile broadens, “Thanks for last night. I know I can be a right git when I’ve had a bit too much, so, thanks for humoring me. I mean the hair thing, just…well, thanks for being understanding. You could have been really cruel about the hair thing. So, thanks.”

We smile at each other for a moment before John goes into the kitchen and I can hear the kettle rattling. I’m certain the situation is resolved until John returns and hands me a cup of tea, our fingers brushing as I take it from him. I don’t recall this having happened before and am still a bit confused as John begins talking again. I miss the first part of his conversation but focus in time to hear, “So I have a short afternoon at the clinic today I should be home around 5.”

He looks ready to walk out but before he goes to the door he smiles at me while reaching forward, running his hand through my hair. My brain freezes. I can still feel the warmth of his hand as he walks out the door.

Through the fog obscuring my thoughts I distantly hear John ask, “I can get Thai on my way home, Ok?”

I look at him with wide eyes, “Umm, fine whatever.” And hear John chuckle as he descends the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I went there. My personal tribute to TAB.


	3. Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drugged John is a happy John.

The next incident occurred after a trip to A&E. 

John had slipped while running after a suspect and cut his hand seriously enough to require stitches. The pain medication from the procedure was strong, causing John to need assistance getting up the stairs. We eventually reach his bed after much carrying, tugging, and pushing. 

I sit John down and then bend over to remove his shoes. He is wrestling with his jacket, becoming tangled in the arms. As I help him remove the offending garment he grabs my arm pulling me closer. Once the jacket is removed entirely he throws both of his arms around me and buries his face into my chest.

“Mmm, you always smell so nice. Well, not when you explode things…or smoke, but, other than those times you smell nice. And your hair, it’s so soft and smells like…smells like…You!”

“John, it’s time for you to sleep, lie down now.”

He falls back onto his bed but had neglected to let go of me, as a result I fall on top of him as he holds me tightly. 

“John this is enough, let me go. Get under your covers now,” I close my eyes feeling a growing need to rush to my room. Finally able to free myself I head towards the door, “Good night John. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“Staaaaaay, pleeeeeeeeeease?” Looking at me with puppy dog eyes, “just until I fall asleep?” His pout looks ridiculous but I sit myself on the edge of his mattress until he falls asleep. 

The next morning I am setting up a new experiment involving frog’s legs and acid when John comes into the kitchen.

“Thanks for last night. I don’t remember much but I know I needed a lot of help getting upstairs. That must have been a lot of work for you.” He giggles as he heads towards the refrigerator, “And I’m pretty sure I remember rolling around on the bed with you.”

I freeze waiting for the oncoming argument to defend his heterosexuality, but hear John’s continued giggling behind me. He leans over, putting his hand on my shoulder, to inspect what I am doing, rather closer than usual.

“I’ve got a short shift at the clinic. I’ll bring home Chinese as a thank you for last night and you can tell me the full bed rolling story during dinner.” He passes his hand up my neck as he stands up, running his fingers through my hair as he walks away, “See you in a few.”

I stare at the door for an indeterminate amount of time trying to process this new, unusual behavior from my flatmate.


	4. Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrill of the chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short but, moves the story forward. Hope to have the next chapter up this weekend.

The case was brilliant! Four severed heads and two hands, all from different people, found in the basement of an old music store in Soho.

The murderer was a resentful musician who believed the store owner sold him an inferior oboe causing him to fail an audition for a chair in the London Symphony Orchestra. The murderer killed other musicians auditioning on the same day, regardless of instrument, planting pieces of them in the store in hopes of the store owner being prosecuted for the crime. The evening ended by chasing the criminal into an abandoned warehouse, leading to John tackling a man nearly twice his weight.

Returning back to Baker Street John and I end up laughing while leaning against the wall in the entry way. Just like our first night together, chasing a criminal and fixing John’s limp. I lean back while closing my eyes trying to control emotions associated with my memories of that first night. I had no idea then that John would become so important to me.

I contain myself then look over at John. He is staring at me intently, licking his lips. I hold my breath, watching as his pupils dilate and his breathing become as labored and heavy as mine. So close to each other, our shoulders almost touching. I move towards him slightly, just until our shoulders brush. His breath catches and he leans into me. We turn toward each other at the same time, I am certain John is thinking the same thing I am. I lean my face towards his slowly. He is moving up to meet me. Oh god, this is finally it. He seems sure of himself. He looks ready to finally move forward.

I hold my breath, our lips are barely touching. Both holding still a moment, breathing heavily. We jump at the loud banging of Mrs. Hudson opening the door to her flat, “Boys! I didn’t realize you were home. I was just going to take this out. John would you mind, my hip and all.”

We stare at her, John automatically putting his hand out for the bag. “Of course Mrs. Hudson. Yes,” as he heads out the door.

I glare at her, “Mrs. Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother now?”

We don’t talk about it but over the next several days I sense John staring at me when I’m not looking. I am positive he feels similar prickling when I do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter has been "The case was brilliant. /AMAZING CASE SOMETHING HERE/" for two months. I hope this version is, at least. slightly better.


	5. For A Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John helps Sherlock out on a case.

A private client calls suspecting theft from one of his employees. It doesn’t look overly interesting but I am desperate for a case so I accept. After work, John joins me at a café across the street from the shop.

I hand John a coffee as he sits, “This doesn’t seem like the kind of case you would normally take. A bit of theft doesn’t even get you off the couch and into clothing normally.” 

“Well, yes. Normally I wouldn’t take it but this is the most interesting case to come along in over a week. I have become quite desperate for some distraction. The stake out is more interesting than staring at the wallpaper at least.”

John smiles at me, “Much better than shooting the wallpaper even.”

I huff out a laugh and notice the suspected employee in the window, “Come John. I think it is time to pay them a visit.”

The store turns out to be a high-end ‘adult’ store, I had forgotten to explain this fact to John. John looks surprised but not horrified, thank goodness. I look around to get my bearings and am not really certain what most of these items are used for much less why anyone would want them. During my assessment of the room the sales woman has been talking to me and I hadn’t realized.

John is staring at me at, seeing my confusion he steps towards the young woman, “Now, my partner and I have decided to spice things up a bit. He is rather new to the idea and we would like some suggestions for toys for newbies, see,” John gives her his dazzling, flirty smile and leads her away. 

I am immobile. ‘My partner’…he called me his partner? This is something John ‘not gay’ Watson tries to avoid at all costs, the idea of us being together, of other people thinking we are together, like that. 

I return to myself and quickly scan the store, to see what the options are for surreptitiously stealing money or inventory, and find John and the saleswoman in the back corner holding an alarmingly pink vibrator.

“Now, this model is designed to stimulate either the g-spot or the prostate and has 4 settings. The low setting is subtle enough for a beginner but strong enough for someone getting prolonged stimulation to be on edge,” the woman is leaning into John with her attempt at a playful smile. 

John steps away from her. Seeing me he grabs my hand pulling me closer, putting his arm around my waist, “What do you think, Bumblebee? I know the color is a bit garish but it looks to be a good size to begin with. I mean, we both know you're used to something MUCH larger but, for what we want this would be a good start.”

I lean into John, enjoying the closeness, “Whatever you think Captain, I trust you.”

John tries to hide his laugh, unsuccessfully, he suddenly leans up and kisses me on my cheek, “Oh Captain is it? If I’m the captain you’ll have to do as I say then.”

He kissed me, John kissed me, he kissed me of his own volition. Yes for a case, a stupidly simple case, but he chose to kiss me. John gives me a quizzical look and pinches my bottom. I most certainly do not squeak as I jump from the surprise. 

John chuckles and returns his attention to the sales woman, “What do you have in the way of restraints? Sometimes I feel the only way to get this one to sit still is if I tie him down. I think having equipment suited for the job would make things much easier.” He winks at me as they walk to the other side of the store.

I head to the checkout desk and then the back of the store looking for clues. I am able to see into the office finding the store safe closed and locked. I return my attention to John and the attendant, they are discussing the different options for some kind of restraint system apparently. I return to the cash register and with John distracting the sales woman so thoroughly I am able to get a closer look. 

What is John planning to do when we leave? He looks very interested in their discussion and I see him holding a packaged version of the vibrator they had been looking at earlier. John turns to me and I signal that I am done. He then leans close to the sales woman and she immediately scurries to the store room, quickly returning with a black box.

John meets us at the cash register, “So Bumblebee, I think these will do quite nicely. I added a little surprise for you, a little surprise is good for any relationship, don’t you think.”

John is buying things, sex things. John is buying sex things in front of someone else while stating we are in a relationship. John is telling this woman we are in a relationship, a sexual relationship. That we are having sex. Kinky sex. Letting this woman think we have had so much sex we need some kind of surprise to ‘spice things up’.

John is holding my hand pulling me to the exit. My mind finally comes back online when the breeze from the passing traffic hits my face. John is grinning up at me, eyebrows raised, “So, did you figure it out?”

“What?” My mind is blank.

John looks concerned, “The case Sherlock, the reason you dragged be to a sex shop? Remember?”

“I didn’t drag you, you joined me willingly. When you saw what kind of store it was you were able bodied enough to leave if you were uncomfortable. I certainly didn’t need you to purchase something to help the case.” I blather.

John glares at me and laughs. He laughs so hard he falls forward into me. Once I think he has gotten ahold of himself he looks at me and bursts into giggles all over again.

“John, I do believe this is quite enough. I am certain you can pull yourself together long enough for us to return home,” still holding his hand, I pull him towards the street, my free hand moving to hail a cab.

John follows behind, still chuckling, “So, you didn’t figure it out then? Do you require more research or is this boring case too difficult for the great Consulting Detective?”

I scoff, “Of course I solved the case. No one is stealing anything. The sales woman is an idiot. She’s been ringing the items up incorrectly. They do not use a scanner system in the store and she has been ringing products up with the wrong codes. The till is short and when they do inventory the numbers don’t match up. What the owner suspected was theft was simply sheer incompetence.” Finally a cab stops, I only let go of John to climb in.

John slides in behind me, as he is closing the door his giggles start up again, “Captain, is it?”

I feel my cheeks burning, “Well, I needed something to use after your ‘Bumblebee’ nickname.”

We grin at each other before looking out our own windows.

Later in the evening the bag from the store is sitting on the kitchen table. The black box is gone but the alarmingly pink thing is still there. It would be problematic to leave it in the middle of the kitchen. What if Mrs. Hudson were to barge in? Can’t have that, it is necessary to hide the offending item. If it happens to end up in my nightstand that is purely a coincidence, it is simply the best hiding spot in the flat. No one would think to look there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with using the 'For A Case' trope is you then need to think of a case. I really just wanted John and Sherlock to end up in a porn shop. Dirty, dirty me.


	6. Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock will do whatever is needed for information.

The small bookstore was overrun with NSY officers blundering about, Lestrade wasn’t letting me into the crime scene and John had not arrived from work yet. Having only been given small details of the scene I cringe every time I see Anderson destroying the area, missing all the significant clues.

The young man behind the counter looks more interested than upset, he was obviously here when the body was found. Putting on my best charming and interested face I make my way towards him.

Leaning against the counter I smile at him, “So, this looks pretty horrible. Were you here when they found the body? It must have been just awful.” 

The young man gives me a wide grin, “Oh, it was just horrid. I can’t imagine what I would have done if I had found her.” He offers his hand, “I’m Bobby, and you are?”

He squeezes my hand gently as we shake and I bite my lip before speaking, “William, it’s, umm, nice to meet you too. Well not because of this but, yeah. If you don’t mind telling me, where were you when she, you know, the body was found?” Bending closer I glance into his eyes before looking towards the back of the store.

Bobby moves around the counter to stand in front of me, “Well, I was at the front of the store straightening up the displays in the window. I heard a shriek from the back and ran right into Susan as she was running out of the back room.” He puts his hand on my arm, “She looked just awful, terrified actually. I called the police right away, I wish I could have done more.”

He’s clearly lying. Leaning into his touch I lick my lips as he smiles up at me, “So, you didn’t see anything? Didn’t you go in the back to check on that woman?”

Bobby steps so close I can smell his disgusting cologne, cheap drugstore brand, puts too much on to overcompensate for his insecurity, although his flirting technique is actually quite good. Possibly something to review later. He bites his lip and blinks at me, “I didn’t think there was anything else I could do. Susan had been there, what could I do other than call the police?”

I give him a shy smile and hear coughing nearby, “Is there a problem here?” Turning I see John peering at Bobby. There is an odd look on John’s face, I would say it was jealousy if he were anyone else.

Bobby continues to stare at me, “No, no problem, just chatting with William about the horrible accident.”

Frowning at him I question, “Accident? You said you didn’t see the back room how do you know it was an accident? If you had been at the front of the store cleaning, as you stated previously, you wouldn’t have been able to see what was in the back. This Susan woman was far too distraught when the police arrived to describe anything of the scene so I doubt she would have been able to explain any of it to you so close to the shock she suffered.”

“Well, I mean, it would have had to be an accident, right? I, just, I mean, well…” Bobby trails off and watches John warily, “why would you say it wasn’t an accident?”

John and I look at each other quickly. John casually moves to the other side of Bobby while I yell loud enough to be heard in the back room, “Lestrade, I’ve found your killer.”

John tackles the young man as he attempts to run away, holding him until Donovan manages to handcuff the suspect. 

Lestrade wipes his hand over his face, “For the love of god, Sherlock, how do you do that? You didn’t even look at the crime scene this time. So, tell me what you figured out.”

Turning towards Bobby, “He was stealing, nothing particularly expensive, just enough to satisfy his kleptomania. The woman in the back…”

“Rachel,” John huffs out.

“Yes, thank you John, Rachel, caught him and threatened to tell their boss. Bobby panicked when she confronted him and he knocked her into one of the cabinets causing a heavy, blunt object to fall on her. He was too stupid to call for help, as the hit to the head most likely didn’t kill her immediately, and subsequently set his colleague up to find the body.”

John beams, “Brilliant, you didn’t even see the crime scene this time?”

“When waiting up front I was able to see a bit of the scene while watching Anderson destroy all of the important evidence. Which, is also how I know the displays at the front of the store haven’t been straightened up in several days. The fine layer of dust told me everything I need to know.”

Bobby begins to struggle, “It WAS an accident I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt her…” He continues to yell as I walk out of the store. If Lestrade needs me for paperwork he can contact me later.

John falls into step beside me, “William? Well, this William seems to be a bit of a flirt apparently,” then clears his throat, “I thought you didn’t do any of that? The flirting stuff I mean, is that just William? Umm…you seemed pretty good at it.”

“John, I needed information and waiting for Lestrade to let me see the body was tedious, I simply used the best method available to get the information I needed.” John is standing terribly close, “I do what needs to be done to solve the crime. You know that John.” I can’t stop staring at his mouth, this close to him I feel his warm breath on my neck.

Leaning closer John blinks slowly as he licks his lips. Suddenly his eyes go wide, gasping slightly he quickly turns as a cab stops beside us, leaving me speechless.

Neither of us talks on the way back to Baker St. and John hurries up to his room before I am able to get out of the cab. Once the cabbie has been paid I slowly make my way upstairs determined to spend the next several hours in my mind palace analyzing John’s recent behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, normal excuses family, out of town guests, alien abduction. You know the norm. This is the first chapter that wasn't at least mostly written before I started posting. The updates will be slower from now on. Hopefully not as long as this chapter.


	7. Fake Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock runs into an old friend from university

It was purely by chance that I happened to run into an old friend from university. I stopped for a coffee while going from Bart’s to Scotland Yard when we ran into each other again, quite literally. While standing at the counter adding my customary sugar I feel a sudden burning sensation down my chest, “Oh, look where you’re going, does no one in this city pay attention anymore?” My coffee had spilt down my shirt, missing my coat entirely consequently bypassing the extra protection it may have given.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. Here let me help…Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes? You may not remember me, Patrick? From uni?”

My head whipped up to see a face I haven’t seen in more than a decade. Patrick and I got along well as he was more intelligent than most and we had several classes together, becoming friends by convenience. When he needed tutoring in chemistry I was glad to help and we began studying together regularly. Patrick was accepted to an international studies program and left for Italy before our third year. We kept in touch briefly but, with his schedule and my increasing drug usage we soon lost track of each other.

I found myself grinning despite my burning, wet situation. “Patrick, yes. I do remember, of course. You went to Italy on international studies. So how was that?” What am I saying?

Patrick laughs, “It went well. I’m in town for a couple of weeks helping with a gallery opening, what an odd coincidence,” he smiles at me before checking his watch, “God, is that the time? I’m sorry for the mess but, look, I am late for a meeting, let me take you to dinner tonight. To make up for the coffee and I would love to catch up.”

I am juggling napkins and my now empty coffee cup while trying to pull out a card, “Good. Good, I mean yes, here’s my address and mobile number. Meet at my flat at 7?”

Patrick grins, “7 it is. I look forward to it,” and waves on his way out the door.

I stare at the door as he walks out. Throwing out the remnants of the coffee mess I head home to change my shirt before going to see Lestrade.

Patrick arrives at 7 exactly, his punctuality is one of the reasons we got along well. “Sherlock, it honestly is so good to see you again, ready to go? The manager at the art gallery recommended this new French place not too far from here. Fleuri, Le Fleur, something. You know French was never my strongest language.”

John is standing by his chair clenching his hands. Ah, I had forgotten to mention my plans for this evening, the little cough he gives shakes me out of my daze, “Yes, sorry. Introductions are in order. John this is Patrick, an old friend from uni. Patrick, Dr. John Watson. My friend and assistant.”

John stiffens, “Sherlock, I am sure I am more helpful to your cases than merely being your assistant.”

“Oh, of course. Your input is invaluable, always. I don’t know what I was thinking. John is my colleague, flatmate, and friend Patrick.”

Patrick stands silently looking back and forth between us, he gives a small smile, “Friends, yes. We’ve all had friends like that, well if one is very lucky. I don’t mean to intrude, if John would like to join us…?”

John quickly jumps in, “Nope! I mean, we’re not,” he takes a deep breath, “he’s my friend, a very good friend, but just a friend.”

I stare at John, there was no ‘I’m not gay’ attached to that statement. It didn’t even seem to be implied. I turn towards John opening my mouth to say something when Patrick interrupts my thoughts, “Well Sherlock, we best be going now. Reservations and all that.” He puts out his hand to John, “good to meet a friend of Sherlock’s.”

John looks at him for a moment before shaking the offered hand, “Well, good to meet an old friend of Sherlock’s.”

“I don’t plan on being out late but don’t wait up, I know you have an early clinic tomorrow.” John relaxes some as I smile at him before I follow Patrick out, “have a good night, John.”

I get home around midnight and John is asleep on the sofa with the television turned to a documentary about WW2. Turning the television off I turn to the sofa. I can’t stop a soft smile forming on my lips, he looks so peaceful. I am hesitant to wake him up but, I know if he sleeps on the sofa tonight his shoulder will ache for several days. Eventually, I decide to put a blanket over him and hope the pain isn’t too bad in the morning. As I smooth the blanket over him I lean down and place a soft kiss on his forehead before heading to my own room.

Patrick is in town for two weeks and we are able to get together frequently. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed his company and we had fun reminiscing and catching up. Our reunion was well timed as I had no cases and the meetings with Patrick helped to stave off the boredom that inevitably comes with a lack of work.

The night before Patrick is to return home we end up talking until well into the evening, actually early morning by the time we said our goodbyes. It was morning rush hour by the time I made it into a cab and the trip across town took significantly longer than normal and I arrive home about 8.

John is sitting at the kitchen table with his morning tea, “Long night then? Was it, umm, uh, good then?” His back is towards me, I can’t see his expression but his voice sounds tight, which may be attributed to either just waking up or being upset.

“Yes, we had a good evening. It’s funny I hadn’t thought about him in years then running into him last week I suddenly remembered how much I enjoyed his company. We had several classes together and he was less dull than the other students. It was,” I paused trying to think of the right word, “nice. To see him again I mean. It was just nice to catch up.”

“So does he make you happy? You know being together again?” John inhales sharply, “just, it brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“He is one of the few happy memories I have of my university days. That was, he was, before…everything else.”

John finally stands and faces me. His hands and jaw are clenched and his eyes are closed, “Will we be seeing much of Patrick now then?” He takes a deep breath and looks at me, “it’s just all these dates and now this.”

“This what?”

“Well, you were out all night. Although you’ve had the most put together walk of shame I’ve ever seen. Probably not as embarrassing for you as it is the rest of us.” He huffs and sits in his armchair.

Walk of shame? The realization suddenly catches up with me. “No, no. It was never like that. We were friends and neither of us were interested in anything more. We had classes together and I tutored him in chemistry. We studied together, went for pizza, shared take out but, never anything more than that. I happened to run into him while he was in town for a couple of weeks and we just met up for old time’s sake. I was so flustered when we ran into each other, such a surprise as I hadn’t heard from him since university, I ended up agreeing to meet with him when he asked. Just, and, we had a good time, we were remembering university stories, shared a bit about our lives since then. I did edit my life story down a bit, he’s not a good enough friend that he needs to know everything.” I blurt out, “he’s not gay! I mean, he is married with 3 children and lives in southern Italy.”

“Ok then, good. I mean as long as you’re happy with it”, John sighs and appears relieved, “it’s really none of my business is it?”

I step closer, “John, you couldn’t possibly be more incorrect in that assumption.” We both jump at the ringing of my phone. I reluctantly answer, “Yes? Lestrade…yes…text me the address we’re on our way.” I look up at John grinning, “Lestrade, a murder in an abandoned warehouse. No sign of forced entry, locked from the inside, and no noticeable tire or foot tracks surrounding the building.” I grab my coat and run down the stairs with John following right behind me with a large, relieved smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent more time editing this chapter than writing it. Let me know if you find anything I missed.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	8. Overly Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a surprise.

There hasn’t been a case in over a week. Nothing. I am willing to take a 3 just to alleviate the boredom. John is at the clinic and Mrs. Hudson is out for the day, no need to expend the effort of getting dressed right now, the sheet will be fine. I go into the kitchen to make tea and consider eating something but, I am sure John will take care of dinner I should be fine until then.

 

As I place my cup on the kitchen table I see the corner of a piece of stationary mixed in with the notes on my last experiment. It’s not simply paper, it is a heavy stationary one would use to write letters, which is unusual in this day and age. The weight is heavy and seems to be of fine quality. Turning the page over I see a handwritten note.

 

‘Hope you are having a good day – YSA’

 

It is John’s handwriting but, why is it here? He must have written it on the kitchen table and forgotten about it. Why would John write a note signed ‘YSA’? It is possible this is related to John’s ‘I’m not gay’ issues?

 

Maybe this note is for YSA. Although it is not usually how one addresses a letter, the possibility that John is attempting to find female companionship to protect his masculinity is not unfounded. I haven’t heard him talking about anyone new at the surgery and there have been no pub nights with Lestrade or anyone else recently, so where would he have met someone? I am certain I would have noticed a change in his behavior if he had.

 

Things have been going well, we have been so close to moving forward for the past several weeks I can’t believe John would still be stuck on his sexual identity but, perhaps that is why things have not progressed as hoped. After the misunderstanding with Patrick I was sure things would improve but the case came up too soon and lasted too long. I spent too much time working out the puzzle of the crime and had completely forgotten about the puzzle of John Watson. Did I wait too long? Did my obsession with the case give John too much time to think things through and panic about my gender?

 

The note gets placed to the side in favor of starting a new experiment solely to waste time and use up all of the older chemicals in my stock. That evening John brings home take away from my favorite Chinese restaurant and we spend the rest of the night watching some insipid quiz show. John always laughs when I correct the idiot contestants.

 

The next day a note is on the refrigerator.

 

‘I’ll be thinking about you today. – YSA’

 

Since yesterday’s message was left under a pile of my notes John must have tacked this to the fridge to help him remember to take it with him. That tactic didn’t work, obviously. I had forgotten about yesterday’s note until just now. It is again for/from YSA and the identity of the intended recipient is no clearer now than it was yesterday. Last night John seemed so comfortable with us together. There was nothing special, unusual, or uncomfortable, in fact I thought we both had a very nice evening. This YSA issue has not interfered with our relationship so, perhaps, John is just trying to make a new colleague feel welcome to the clinic. But, again, John has not mentioned any new staff and he doesn’t appear to have any outward signs of major changes or incidents.

 

I continue my experiment from yesterday and plan to visit the morgue this afternoon to see if Molly has anything new for me. Fortunately, Molly was able to acquire several tongues and texts me just as I am finishing up my current project. Each tongue has a different disease requiring experiments which will take several days to complete and the results will be beneficial in attempting to identify a victim’s health pre-mortem.

 

That afternoon I retrieve my laptop to take notes on the first tongue experiment, when I open it there is a piece of paper sitting on the keyboard.

 

‘Hope you are having a good day. – YSA’

 

In my laptop. MY laptop. With John’s continuous ranting about personal space and privacy I am surprised. My laptop was on the desk in the sitting room but I cannot remember if it was open or closed when I went to bed last night. John could have written the note on the desk and then accidently closed it in the laptop, which would explain the note on the refrigerator. This one was lost and he pinned the other as to not forget it, which didn’t work.

 

There is a buzzing in my pocket as my text alert goes off.

 

‘There’s an office thing tonight. I’ll probably late, don’t wait up for me. Eat something for dinner. I can call Mrs. Hudson if you think you won’t remember.’

 

‘I am perfectly capable of remembering to feed myself. - SH’

 

‘I know you are capable you just never seem to take the time to eat unless someone is there to remind you.’

 

‘I have a new experiment underway and will have time while the solvents sit. I will have some of the leftover take away while I’m waiting. - SH’

 

‘What new experiments? Will this one smell as bad as the last one did. I just got the stench out of the last of my jumpers.’

 

‘No, I am not anticipating any foul smells. Just some tissue and muscle observations. – SH’

 

‘What kind of muscle?’

 

‘Molly gave me some diseased tongues. The results could be helpful in revealing the health of future victims. – SH’

 

‘Molly sure does know how to seduce a guy. Just try not to light the flat on fire or anything. I’ll be late so, don’t wait up.’

 

Seduce? Molly had given up on that possibility ages ago, not long after John had moved in honestly. John must be projecting his own ideas onto my situation. I continued with my tissue samples and once I had satisfying results I went to bed. John was indeed late and I did not hear him come home before I fell asleep.

 

The next morning Lestrade calls me to NSY to look at some files. The solution was so simple I could have solved it via email. “Lestrade why am I here? This is a complete waste of my time, I have several experiments going on at home right now and many are time sensitive. If this is all you needed me for I am leaving.”

 

As I pull my gloves out of my pocket a piece of paper falls onto the floor. The same paper John’s YSA notes are on. Lestrade picks up and opens the folded paper before I get to it.

 

“Oh my, looks like someone has an admirer.”

 

I snatch the letter from him.

 

‘Hope you’re not too bored today. – YSA’

 

This was in my pocket? There is no way John accidentally left a note in my pocket. Why is the note in my pocket?

 

“Hey, Sherlock? Are you ok in there? Hey! Earth to Sherlock!”

 

I see concern on Lestrade’s face, he is looking between my face and the piece of paper. He puts his hand on the forearm I am holding the note in, “Something wrong with, umm, that?” Making a vague hand gesture in the vicinity of the note, “something you want to tell me?”

 

“No, nothing. Why would you ask that?”

 

“It’s just, you have a note from a secret admirer. Are you sure it’s not a serial killer or something? You do seem to attract attention of serious criminals.”

 

“No serial killers Lestrade,” my eyes roll of their own accord, “Why are you saying ‘secret admirer’?”

 

“YSA? It stands for ‘Your Secret Admirer’. What did you think it meant?”

 

“Well, I thought it was someone’s initials.”

 

“Who do you know with the initials YSA?”

 

“Well, no one but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone with the initials YSA does there?”

 

Lestrade takes a deep breath, “Well, congratulations. Any idea who it might be?”

 

I stop for a moment. These are in John’s handwriting, all of them, including this one. They are all on the same paper, so not a random accident. This has been thought out, planned. I look at Lestrade and clear my throat, “No, no idea. No idea at all.”

 

He squints at me, unbelieving for a moment, “Well get back to your experiments then. Sorry I wasted your time.”

 

Clearly Lestrade knows something but, I don’t want to discuss it until I am sure that John is really the admirer and I am certain these notes are meant for me.

 

At home I pace around the living room, tongues completely forgotten at the moment. It appears John wrote these notes and planned for me to find them. Does this mean they are really for me or is he trying to hint at something else?

 

The ping of my text alert breaks the silence.

 

‘Sorry, but I need to work late tonight. Tomorrow I am pulling a double and then I need to leave town for a couple days. Some continuing education thing the clinic wants me to attend.’

 

‘Why can’t you come home now? I think there is something going on, but I’m not sure what? - SH’

 

‘I guarantee you everything is fine. I can’t talk anymore got to go.’

 

I try to wait up for John but end up falling asleep on the sofa and he is gone to work before I wake up.

 

As I am getting dressed that morning there is a note in my sock drawer.

 

‘Look forward to seeing you soon. And you can check, I didn’t mess up your sock index. – YSA’

 

I smile at the note and then check, he didn’t mess up my sock index. OK, so these are clearly in John’s handwriting and are definitely meant for me. I rub my thumb along the writing and then smooth out the paper and place it in my nightstand with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone remember what else got put into Sherlock's nightstand?
> 
> I hope you enjoy the third version of this chapter. On the plus side one of the previous versions could develop into it's own fic.


	9. Now what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock worries himself sick, literally.

The flat is empty, I am lying on the sofa trying to understand this situation. The only way I can solve the newest puzzle of John Watson is in my mind palace. 

The notes are unquestionably from John and are indeed meant for me. 

What does John want out of all of this, could John possibly want the same things that I want? Does he know how I feel about him? Do I need to tell him what I want before he can figure his own feelings out? Does he have a romantic interest or is this something else, like that ‘bromance’ discussion that seems to be all over the internet right now? Is there any possibility that John is interested in having a sexual relationship with me? 

Argh, this is all so intolerable! How am I supposed to think with all this…running around in my head? Is this what fills other people’s heads, is this why people don’t notice the blatant evidence of their own inadequacies? How do people live like this? 

And the sex thoughts! Sex had always been a means to an end before this. If the need arose and I was unable to ignore it I had no problem finding a willing partner to get things taken care of. Early on in university I was able to get my libido under control making the necessity of such encounters rare. 

I never understood the obsession others have with sex until that first time I saw John coming out of the bathroom in just a towel. His hair was still wet from the shower and his skin damp from the steam, as he passed by me I could smell his soap and aftershave. The problem with having an extraordinary memory is that this event has stored itself in my mind palace and replays itself at will. I have not masturbated this much since, well, actually I have never masturbated as much as I have been recently. And the sex toy! Knowing that John picked it out and held it, thinking of it being in John’s hands plays itself out in my bed at night causing exceptional orgasms. I have begun storing towels in my nightstand to clean the considerable messes my new nightly habit creates. 

My phone vibrates and I scramble to check the text. The text is only Lestrade, a cold case. Not important. How can I concentrate on a 20 year old murder when I am dealing with a current John Watson mystery?

Rolling off the sofa, I pace the room. All this furniture is blocking my path, easier to step over it than to move it. I begin pulling my hair hoping the pain might stimulate some epiphany as to John’s intent or motivation. 

This is not how this was supposed to go. I had carefully planned everything out, well sort of, enough of a plan to call it a plan anyways. Perhaps recalling recent events may help make some sense of this situation.

First, the alcohol. He got himself drunk and became more affectionate than he would either sober or on an average pub night with Lestrade. He apologized the next morning but, there was no mention of ‘I was drunk so it doesn’t count’ or ‘I’m not really gay’.

Second, medicated. He was on fairly strong medication but not to the extent I would have expected such a reaction. He has never been a ‘light weight’ when it came to drugs before but, of course, I had administered those drugs and they were of a slightly different nature than those prescribed by a physician. Again there was no discussion of appropriateness or sexuality.

Third, adrenaline. We were so close to something and if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Hudson things would have been further along than they currently are. However, would we have moved forward to a romantic relationship or would that night have created a panic in John regarding his sexual identity? 

Fourth, for a case. The image of us being a couple was instigated by John and he followed through despite the situation making it clear that he was in a gay, sexual relationship with me. He could have easily flirted with the sales girl to distract her instead of pretending to be my partner but he didn’t. He even spent a generous amount of time conversing with her about the quality and level of ‘toys’ needed for our sex life. As we left the shop he willingly reached for my hand and made no move to let go until it was unavoidable while entering the cab. There was no mention of ‘I’m not gay’ once the entire day either.

Fifth, the flirting. I had intended to solve the case before John showed up and chatting up the sales clerk was the most efficient was to get the required evidence. The look on John’s face when he entered the shop was unexpected. And his questions regarding William’s flirting, at the time I dismissed them as curiosity but he did say, “I thought you didn’t do any of that? The flirting stuff I mean, is that just William? Umm…you seemed pretty good at it.” Which now leads me to wonder if he wanted to flirt with me or if he was just wondering where I got my abilities from. At the time I wasn’t certain but now, reviewing all of the other evidence from recent events I believe he was jealous of my flirting.

Sixth, Patrick. This situation seems the strangest to me. John is always going on about having friends and meeting people but he was certainly unhappy about my friendship with Patrick. His reaction definitely fell under the behavior of jealousy and our discussion seemed to have relieved some of his concern. Unfortunately the case came up just as I felt things were getting somewhere, which leads us to the situation we are in currently.

Now it is the notes. I always knew John was a bit of a romantic but, I never imagined him doing something as melodramatic as leaving notes for someone. While the evidence overwhelmingly indicates that John meant them for me, I am lead back to the beginning of my argument, what does he want?

My head has begun to ache from all of my hair pulling and my nausea indicates I may have taken one too many turns around the room. I need to lie down again. 

If these notes are John’s way of joking around I believe this situation could be defined a cruel and surely John would agree. Ergo, John cannot be joking and he must…must what? John is my friend, he has said so on numerous occasions, John is incapable of being cruel to his friends. So, what then? What is this? And that is the crux of my problem. The only way I will be able to figure this out is to talk to John directly. As he is not answering any of my texts, and it seems he will not while he is away, I am at an impasse. 

I throw myself off the sofa. I may as well start a new experiment, I’m not certain how much longer those tongues will last. As I am pulling chemicals out of the cupboard I feel paper wrapped around one of the bottles.

I promise everything is fine. YSA

Smiling at the note I place it in my dressing gown pocket to keep it close to me all day. If I put my hand in my pocket more often than usual it is simply coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going a bit slower now because the story is going in a slightly different direction than I had originally planned. It makes it more exciting for me but also a bit harder to work on. But don't worry, the endgame is the same.


	10. Just Talk About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally understands John's plan.

“Sherlock? Sherlock dear, there’s a delivery for you.” Mrs. Hudson’s voice rings up the stairs, “could you come down for it dear? My hip is acting up today.”

Is the trip really worth it? Not important right now, I’m finishing up with these tongues and I only have today left until they become unusable. “Just leave it downstairs, I’ll get it when I finish this experiment.”

Her sigh is loud enough for Mrs. Turner’s married one to hear, “Don’t forget and you should come down soon. I’ll be next door all afternoon.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Half an hour at the most, I can’t leave this right now.”

“Now Sherlock, don’t forget!” The door slams behind her.

It’s 1:00 whatever the delivery may be it can sit for at least half an hour, I’m finally getting some interesting reactions and I may ruin the results if I leave now.

“Sherlock! Sherlock Holmes, come down here this instant!” Ah, Mrs. Hudson, “You said half an hour, come get this right now! I’m sure someone went to a lot of trouble for this.”

5:30, the data has been far too interesting to worry about some silly delivery. But, Mrs. Hudson continues to yell, certainly easier to just go get whatever it is than to continue to be disturbed by her squawking.

Mrs. Hudson is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, hands on her hips, angrier than seems necessary for a simple package. There are flowers on the hall table, a very large flower arrangement in fact, “A new admirer Mrs. Hudson? The arrangement and flowers chosen indicate a great affection for you. Someone is a lucky woman.”

Mrs. Hudson gives me an odd smile, “They’re for you Sherlock.”

My mind blanks. Flowers for me. These flowers are for me?

“Mind you, not what I would have chosen. Bit much for my tastes but to each his own.”

“They weren’t chosen for aesthetics, well possibly they were but, the meaning behind them is more to the point in this case.”

Mrs. Hudson huffs, “The meaning, what is it then? Flowers generally mean one has an admirer unless this is a thank you for one of your cases.”

There’s an envelope, the same stationary as John’s notes, “These flowers have meaning, they were chosen to convey a message.”

“Oh, there’s a card. Who are they from then? I hope it’s an admirer and not some obsessed criminal.”

I grab the arrangement and rush upstairs before having to endure anymore of Mrs. Hudson’s questions.

Placing the vase on the kitchen table my mind returns to a case involving the Victorian meanings for flowers. Red tulips, a declaration of love. Orange primroses symbolize I can’t live without you. White orange blossom stands for eternal love. White violets mean let us take a chance for happiness. And in the middle a single red rose in full bloom ‘I love you’. My hand shakes as I reach for the note.

_Sherlock,_   
_I think I’ve got this right, I hope I have anyways._   
_Please, meet me at Angelo’s tonight at 7. If you show up we can try for something more. But, if I’ve misunderstood, if I’ve gotten this wrong just don’t come. If you don’t, I’ll come home and we will just continue on as friends and flat mates. Nothing will have to change._   
_I want you but, if I’ve misunderstood, if you are truly married to your work I will understand and support you any way that I can. I will take whatever you are willing to give me._   
_John_

Angelo’s at 7. Alright, this seems pretty clear. John wants something more, John likely wants what I want, he will take whatever I am willing to give him. He doesn’t understand that I will give him anything, everything.

I check the time 6:15. Oh god! I have been dithering about for the last 25 minutes when I have serious preparations to do. I need a shower and a shave and my hair and I need to press a shirt, “Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson!” I grab a white shirt from my wardrobe and rush downstairs, “Mrs. Hudson, could you please press this off for me?” There is no answer when I bang on her door. She’s out, she’s out and I don’t have time to press a shirt, I don’t have the needed equipment to press a shirt either. Damn!

I rush back upstairs and into the shower. I need to wash thoroughly, hopefully it will be needed tonight. I shave as close as possible without cutting myself.

My hair! Product, combing, finger tousling, trying to get that one curl on my forehead that John stares at when it falls forward. That one curl he has taken to brushing off my face when I am using my microscope.

Clothes, dark grey suit? No, black suit and shirt, what shirt? The aubergine looks unwrinkled enough. Oh no, pants! What pants to wear? Will John see my pants tonight? Oh please god yes, at least let me see John’s pants tonight. Hopefully the red ones. They were in the wash basket once and many an evening has been spent fantasizing about John in his red pants with his hands on me or that toy or…getting distracted.

Time? What’s the time? 6:55! Damn. Grabbing coat wallet keys, I rush downstairs as I button my shirt then try to tuck my shirt into my trousers while I hail a cab. I bribe the driver with 100 pounds to get there in 10 minutes. He doesn’t succeed.

7:15, will John still be here? Of course he will I’m only a few minutes late. But what if he isn’t? What if he changed his mind? I haven’t seen him in 2 days, what if he…

Angelo comes out onto the sidewalk, “Coming in Sherlock?”

My head whips up and I look into Angelo’s kind, smiling eyes. Yes, I’m going in.

John is in the corner and stands when he sees me. He looks relieved. Oh, I was late, he thought I wouldn’t come. Idiot!

John smiles at me across the room and motions for me to join him. I can’t move. Someone is pushing my back and I am slowly propelled forward by someone else’s momentum. Suddenly, I am sitting with a glass in my hand. I look at the glass not sure what is in it, wine, I take a drink, good wine. Oh. I look up and John is sitting across from me holding his own glass.

I think I’m smiling, my face feels like I’m smiling but I’m not sure of anything right now. I’m feeling a bit numb. This all seems too much like a dream.

“Sherlock, I’ve been thinking and I have realized something about myself,” John hesitates, “I love you.” He looks into my eyes and takes a deep breath, “I am in love with you. Once I was truly honest with myself I realized I have been in love with you for quite some time. And lately it seems you have been more receptive to my, well, affections and I hope you…well you’re here so that does take some of the worry out of it I guess.”

“But you’re not gay!” I exclaim.

“Well, no, but that’s not really important right now.”

“No, it is. I’m a man and you’re not gay. It’s kind of important.”

“I finally realized it doesn’t matter. The whole getting hung up on anatomy doesn’t change how I feel about you.  
It was that night with Greg, at the pub. He told me to finally get my head out of my ass. He made me really think things through. And, just. There is no one else, Sherlock. There isn’t anyone else I have ever felt like this about, the way I feel about you. And I realize there never will be.”

“Me too!” I exclaim. “There’s never been anyone else, never anyone like you!”

John takes a drink, “Good, I, good.” Plates are placed in front of us. “I went ahead and ordered. I thought there would be fewer interruptions that way.”

I look at my plate, John has ordered my favorite dish. He knows my favorite dish. John has the same thing, he doesn’t like scampi, why did he order the same thing?

He sees my confusion, “Yeah, I thought ordering your favorite dish would be romantic. And I thought,” his face goes red, “there’s a lot of garlic and if we both have a lot of garlic it would be less noticeable…later.” He closes his eyes and takes another large drink of wine, “Not that anything needs to happen to be affected by garlic, I mean I’m not expecting anything, hoping maybe, but if…”

“YES!” I clear my throat, “I mean yes, I want that. I would like that too.”

We grin at each other for a moment and the tension eases. We fall into a comfortable silence. Back to just being us, together. Sherlock and John.

We both relax and talk about John’s trip. Boring medical conference but, necessary for his continuing education quota. They were studying new techniques in diagnosing and treating infectious diseases including how to handle patients in the waiting room.

Before we know it we are finished with our dinner and are contemplating dessert when Angelo shows up with 2 cream filled cannoli. He is laughing and looks at John, “Are you his date now?”

John smiles back at Angelo, “Yes. I am.”

Angelo is still laughing as he walks away and we laugh with him. I look at John, suddenly feeling shy until John smiles at me warmly. We each pick up a cannoli but, when John takes a bite he ends up with cream on the tip of his nose. I can’t stop myself from laughing out loud.

“What? What is so funny?”

I reach across the table and wipe the cream off with my thumb. John takes my wrist and proceeds to lick the cream off of my finger before placing a gentle kiss to the inside of my wrist.

My breathing quickens, “I think, I would like for us to go home now, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired by 'Spring Violets Under the Snow' by greyscalemuse and WhatIfIAmInsane for parts of this chapter.  
> Our boys are finally getting things figured out!


	11. Finally!

I jump out of the car and race to the front door before the cab fully stops. My hands are shaking with the excitement of what may come next and I cannot get them to cooperate long enough to get the key into the lock. In all my fantasies and imaginings I never took my own nervousness into account. This nervousness leads to uncertainty, what will happen next? The kiss at Angelo’s was such a small kiss but so full of promise, a kiss that hints at something wonderful and intimate. Will we continue from there? When we walk through this door will John run up the stairs right away or will he stop in the hall to decide what comes next?

John comes up behind me and his insistence gently pushes me forward. We stand in the front hall and watch each other, trying to determine where we go from here. I take the initiative, slowly backing John up against the wall. The wall we were leaning against that first night. The wall we were leaning against when John realized he was cured of his limp. The wall we were leaning against when I understood how special this man is, when I began to see that I could never push John away no matter the threat to my carefully constructed efforts to be married to the work. The wall we were leaning against when all the defenses against sentiment began to crumble in my mind palace. 

I lay a hand on John’s shoulder, leaning towards him slowly, watching for any sign that he is uncomfortable or unhappy. John’s eyes close when I can feel his breath against my lips and I pause to commit this moment to memory. If all of this goes horribly at least I will have this moment to remember. 

John must get tired of waiting and he leans forward to kiss me gently. We share a soft gentle slide of lips and shared breath. I pull back to look at John. 

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing now, Sherlock. I don’t have a lot, well any, experience with this…between men. I mean I have a lot of experience just not with men, with you.”

I smile down at him, “Don’t worry. I have plenty of experience to help us through this.”

“So, Mycroft had it wrong?”

“Don’t talk about Mycroft now.”

John giggles, “Let’s go up. Continue this where there’s a smaller chance of Mrs. Hudson walking in on us and ruining the mood, again.”

I take John’s hand leading him up the stairs. At the first landing I pull him close, this kiss is deeper, more passionate. A kiss that I have been fantasizing about for so very long, too long honestly. 

Suddenly we notice an unpleasant smell. The closer we get to the flat the stronger the smell becomes. Once we reach the door the stench is so horrible we need to cover our mouths and noses to keep from gagging.

“What did you do?” John demands.

“Shit! I forgot to clean up my experiment this afternoon. There may be quite a bit of putrefied tongues in acid on the kitchen table right now.”

John giggles, “Did you just swear? In all the time I have known you I don’t think I have ever heard you swear!” John sighs, “Let’s just get this cleaned up then.”

John is mumbling just loud enough for me to hear, “I’m gone for 2 days and he stink bombs the flat. At least he didn’t shoot anything this time,” as he walks around opening windows. “Do you still have that fan from the when you were trying to dry those poisonous weeds last year? It would help air out the flat quicker.”

I find the fan in my room then continue to clean off the table. I’m not sure what to do with the rotten tongues and we decide the best course of action is to put the mess in well-sealed containers and freeze them until they can be disposed of properly. 

John smiles at the flowers standing in the middle of bottles of solutions and the remnants of rotten, slimy tongues on the table. 

I look over at him, “This is entirely your fault technically. I was so distracted by the flowers and your note I rushed to get dressed and forgot all about cleaning.”

“I sent the flowers to get here before 2. I knew if you accepted you would need a ridiculous amount of time to get dressed. And even with your magical cab hailing ability getting around London at 6 o’clock is challenging.”

I feel myself blushing, “Well…I didn’t actually get the flowers until 5:30 and then I was so busy thinking about the flowers and the note I lost track of time. Even with rushing to get dressed I wasn’t able to leave until 6:55, if I had remembered to stop and clean up I would have been even later. So again, this is technically your fault.”

“God, you crazy madman! If I didn’t feel so nauseous I would definitely be up for quite a long snog with you now.”

John goes back to airing out the flat while I clean up the last of the hazardous waste.

My room is uninhabitable due to the smell but, since John had left his door shut the foul odor had not made its way upstairs. I feel a bit grateful for the smell since I’m not sure we would have ended up in bed together tonight otherwise.

Simultaneously, we discover our clothes are saturated with the disgusting smell. We rush to John’s room, strip our clothes off on the landing, and then realize the smell has infected our skin and hair. Neither of us wants to wake up to the smell of rotten tongues in the morning so we hurry to the bathroom and, simply for convenience sake, end up in the shower together. Taking surreptitious glances at John’s naked body, I try to judge how close my fantasies are to the reality of John. On one of my attempts to observe I notice John giving me the same quick looks and when our eyes meet we laugh.

The towels have also been infected with the smell so we run, dripping wet, back to John’s room to try and find something to dry off with. The only thing John has that is close to a towel is his bathrobe and we take turns using the terry cloth.

Once I am mostly dry I stand at the end of John’s bed awkwardly. Having no idea what John wants I wait for him to indicate what he is comfortable with. John climbs into his bed, naked, and turns down the other side of the duvet motioning for me to join him. I lie down facing him waiting for him to get comfortable. He gives me a small smile and I slowly move closer. He puts his left hand on my shoulder which I take as a good sign and lean forward to kiss him gently. The kiss never moves beyond the gentle soft kisses we shared in the foyer and I am so happy for this opportunity I don’t dare push for more. 

John runs his hand up my neck, “Your hair is soaking wet. The pillows are going to be drenched in the morning!” 

I sit up hastily, “I can…”

“Stop! It’s fine, let’s worry about it tomorrow.”

John pulls me closer, wrapping both of his arms around me. I lay my head on his chest and count the beats of his heart.

“You’re counting my pulse aren’t you?” John chuckles.

I simply smile into his chest as the stress of the day releases itself and I fall asleep in John’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psych!


	12. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE RATING HAS GONE UP TO E!! BE WARNED. IF YOU DON'T GO FOR THE E RATING FEEL FREE TO PASS ON THE FINAL 2 CHAPTERS!
> 
> The morning after.

Waking up with my head on John’s chest I can still hear his heart beating. I hold him closer, wrapping myself almost entirely around him happy for the compactness of my doctor.

 

I am getting hard rubbing against his leg, as John rolls to his side in my arms it causes my length to rub against his buttocks, I buck against him and moan before I can stop myself. John stirs as I wrap my arm around him tighter. He presses back against me causing me to moan again, closer to his ear this time.

 

“Hmmm, good morning to you too,” John chuckles. He runs his hand behind him and over my thigh pulling me closer causing my erection to shift into his intergluteal cleft.

 

I run my hand down over his stomach, and gratefully, find him hard as well. Palming lightly against his erection he bucks into my hand and we both moan loudly. John runs his hand over my thigh and pulls me closer as he pushes back onto me. I pant into his ear and slowly wrap my hand around his erection causing John to gasp and buck forward once again.

 

“Yesss,” he hisses out. “Oh god, Sherlock!”

 

I thrust against John a few more times and then roll onto my back pulling John with me. He rolls on top of me, our erections rubbing against each other, causing me to gasp. John strokes my cheek and slowly gives me a soft, luxurious kiss. Grabbing the back of his head to deepen the kiss our tongues tangle as we grind against each other.

 

“Please John, I need you. I’ve waited so long, not anymore…I need…now.”

 

“In the drawer Sherlock, just, in there.”

 

I feel my way around the drawer for the necessary items while John continues to kiss me, working his way down my neck to my collar bone. I lose track of what I’m trying to do for a moment until our erections rub against each other and again remember to fumble around in the drawer. Lube, good, box, must be condoms. I pull out the items, the box is not condoms. John sees the box in my hand and stops. Red with embarrassment he stammers, “Ummm, yeah. I was curious and just thought. I mean if we were to, you know, I wanted to be ready.”

 

I open the box to see the same vibrator I have but in black. The same model as the hot pink toy from the sex shop! My cock gets even harder and I groan loudly as I take the toy out of the box. “John!” I look up at him with wonder, “I never thought you would be willing. Have you tried it? Have you?”

 

“Well, yeah. I thought you would want to try the other way first.  That you would want to ease into all this a bit more, I know I’ve never been with a man but, I thought I would have had more experience in general and I just wanted you to enjoy it.”

 

I grab his neck and pull him closer kissing him deeply. Our hips line up again and we buck into each other again. Throwing my head back against the pillow, “John, I, this is too much. I have been thinking about you for weeks now. Using that vibrator, imagining you holding it, thinking about it being in your hands as I fuck myself with it. Knowing you were up here doing the same thing excites me so much. Knowing you are willing to try this, for me, for us. I need you now John. I’ve waited for you, I’ve spent months now fantasizing about what would happen if I ever got you into my bed. Please John!”

 

John rolls off of me and I dig around the drawer more finding the box of condoms. John hands me the bottle of lube and lies on his back spreading his legs. The sight of John laid out on the bed distracts me and it takes a few minutes before I realize what he is waiting for. He moves to take the lubricant from me and I snatch it out of his reach, “NO!” I shout, “I need you inside me.”

 

John sits up a bit, “But, I thought you would. I mean I thought it would be easier if…”

 

“John, I told you last night, I have more than enough experience in this area to work with. Just to be clear, I ENJOY receiving. I would certainly be happy trying all options with you but tonight I need you to be inside me.”

 

I roll onto my back and John moves up, kneeling between my legs. He grabs a pillow and places it under my hips as I lift them up. “I have read up about what I need to do and well I’ve done the basics as a doctor but, I’ll need you to talk me through this so I can make sure I don’t hurt you.”

 

My John, so considerate, so caring. “Start with lots of lubricant and one finger.”

 

He starts with one finger and then slowly works me open, maddeningly slowly. I cannot concentrate enough to store this experience in my mind palace and I am afraid I will not last much longer. “Now John!”

 

“Someone’s impatient. I’m worried it won’t be enough, I mean, I’m kind of…”

 

“Yes, yes, yes, you’re hung like a bear. I’m more than ready now John just fuck me already.”

 

John laughs, “I should have known you’d be bossy in bed.”  He continues to tease around my prostate,” So, I’m clean, I mean are…I mean do you want condoms?”

 

“I’m clean, John, I promise you but I prefer condoms to make clean up easier to handle.”

 

“Oh, right, of course.”

 

He rolls the condom on and uses an excessive amount of lubricant. Holding his hand up he looks around a bit.

 

“John?”

 

“It’s just. The mess and I don’t want to touch you with this.”

 

I grab the corner of the sheet and impatiently clean his hand off.

 

“Well, ok then.” John smiles down at me as he bends forward placing the head of his erection at my opening, “If this hurts just tell me and I’ll stop, ok?”

 

I roll my eyes, “Yes, yes, I do know what I’m doing, trust me. I’ll be fine.”

 

I wrap my legs around his waist as he presses against my opening. He goes slowly and carefully looking at my face, probably for any signs of discomfort.

 

“It’s so good John, more, please.”

 

John smiles down at me and thrusts into me gently. I can’t wait anymore and wrap my arms and legs around him harder, pulling him deep inside of me in one go. I groan loudly while thrusting my hips up and start rocking trying to encourage him to go faster and harder.

 

“Jesus Sherlock. Just give me a minute. I need to slow down or this will be over embarrassingly quickly.”

 

We take deep breaths for a minute until John starts to slowly rock himself back and forth. I push my hips up to meet his every thrust.

 

“Please, I need more. Please!”

 

John speeds up as I yell. John growls while bending forward to kiss me. I put one foot on the mattress trying to get better leverage to move harder and faster. John feels me trying to speed things up and leans forward on his hands and knees, giving him the leverage to move harder and faster. “Neither of us is going to last long, stop pretending and get on with it, John!”

 

He smirks down at me, “Should have known you would top from the bottom! Hold on then, love.”

 

John thrusts rapidly, harder on every thrust so I have to push against the headboard to keep from sliding up the bed. He leans back a little then hits my prostate on every thrust. I wrap my hand around my erection and move in time with John’s thrusts. “I won’t last much longer now, so good, too good! John…John, oh, oh!”

 

John speeds up, panting heavily on my face, “Now Sherlock, now. Come for me, I need to see you. Let me see you come for me!”

 

I inhale quickly as my body goes stiff. My mind blanks and all I can hear is John calling my name. All I can see is John. Nothing else exists in this moment. Nothing else matters. John’s face scrunches and his body goes still for a moment followed by a few small thrusts. He lies on top of me, panting. “OH god Sherlock! I can’t believe we finally…”

 

I wrap my arms around him, trying to pull him closer. He raises his head to kiss me softly before rolling over and removing the condom. Wrapping his arms around me he starts to stroke my hair and then suddenly stops, “I need a shower after this. My everything is a sticky mess right now.”

 

I giggle and bury my face in his neck, I kiss his neck gently and then work my way up to his mouth. “If you really need a shower Captain I guess you could convince me to join you.”

 

He hugs me tightly, “Alright then, in a minute, I just want to enjoy the afterglow for a few more minutes.” He kisses me gently on my cheek and then my eyelids and down across my temple before reaching my mouth. We share lazy kisses as we wrap ourselves in each other for a few more minutes.

 

My text alert sounds. I freeze in John’s arms not sure what to do next.

 

“Get you great git. I don’t expect you to change just because we’ve slept together.”

 

I sit up slowly and cautiously look at him. “Do you mean…?”

 

“I just mean that THIS is just an add on to the relationship we already have. You’ll chase criminals and I’ll run behind you saving your scrawny ass. Then we’ll come home where I will force you to eat and drink and then we go to bed together. Just like always, well almost.”

 

I grin down at him, “That, yes, I want that. With you. You and the cases and Baker St. and tea and your ugly jumpers and us together.”

 

We smile at each other for a moment and then I jump out of bed to get my phone from the landing.

 

“I hope the smell has dissipated so I can get my tea before we run off you madman.”

 

I wave my hand at him while reading. “Murder! Down in Soho. Up, up, time to go!”

 

John follows me down the stairs and into the shower as we prepare for our next adventure.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hemingway said to "write drunk and edit sober" but this chapter was so difficult for me I swapped. So, I hope this makes sense while I am editing in my drunken stupor.
> 
> One more chapter for our lovely boys and then happily ever after all around.


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